The Least I Could Do is Pull You From the Ruins
by JannP
Summary: Life or afterlife, doesn't matter, is divided by clear lines. People always want to know the first thing you did when. When you came back. When you got another chance. They want to know how you started your do-over. Damon-centric, spoilers for 6X05.
1. My Clumsy Tomb

**A/N: I have never attempted this genre before, partly because I'm a really new TVD watcher. I binge watched and had so many thoughts for missing scenes or explanations I wanted, but it's a mess when I try to set them to paper. This was the first one that took hold, really. I have probably three more parts (one more Damon/Stefan, a Damon/Ric, and a Damon/Elena) in mind if anyone would be interested in reading it. I know there are going to be several stories that cover similar material though, I admit, I haven't looked through the board yet. I'm not trying to copy anyone, just trying to put my own spin on things because these moments are really dynamic. Anyway, please do take a moment to let me know if I suck at this or if I should continue. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own TVD or these characters. The title was taken from and this was inspired, in part, by ****_From the Ruins_**** by Nick Thomas (who you may or may not recognize if you're a fan of The Spill Canvas.)** **I don't own that or the lyrics, either.**

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><p>It isn't like he got a <em>choice<em>. First of all, whatever soul-and-body sucking force had been thrust upon him didn't take time to ask him where he wanted to land before it jerked him backwards, out of the nineties, and drops him into the middle of… well, the place it drops him. Again, no choice.

He stands there for a minute. Or two or twelve or whatever because if one thing will mess with your sense of time, it's time travel. Coming back from the dead. The not-dead. From the Kai-hell. He knows the cold, hard facts of where he's been but he is still a little short on details. Like choices about where you end up, or if you get to take anyone with you or _who_ you get to take with you, details don't come around all too often.

So anyway, it's a little disorienting and a lot not optional, so the first thing he does is stand there, trying to figure out what the next step should be. It's a question that usually transcends time and culture and whatever the hell else. Life or afterlife, doesn't matter, is divided by clear lines. People always want to know _the first thing you did when_. When you came back. When you got another chance. They want to know how you started your do-over.

Seriously, that's gonna be his answer, because it's the God's honest truth and he has to tell that sometime doesn't he?

Look, the first time he was recycled, he held onto Bonnie because he was just doing it and objects in motion tend to keep right on doing what they're doing until something makes them undo. Like a realization that you're clinging to a witch and neither one of you are dead. Worked like a charm last time.

This time, there's no hand to hold. There's no company, no solace but… well he still has that hearing so he can _hear_ something. He still has, you know, eyes in his head, so he looks around.

He stands around, looking around. He's badass like that. _ What was the first thing you did when_.

He's in the same spot he'd been standing when life or afterlife or whatever sucked. Or blew. He isn't all that clear on the directionals. He does a three-sixty and yep, it's the same place. It looks the same. It _feels_ the same, as far as he can remember and he has a vampire memory. Still. That sucker's one step above an elephant. Anyhow.

The second thing he does is focus his sharp sense of hearing. Now that he knows _where_ he is, and based on recent previous experience, his next goal is figuring out _when _he is. Just to get it out of the way, he does a quick glance down just to make sure _who_ he is. He's getting through basic questions. He could figure out how is, too so… yeah. The 'when' seems important, so he figures he'll solve that one next and then maybe he could say the first thing he's done isn't just stand in place.

He can hear something, and he dials his hearing in on the… it's a voice. A human one.

An extremely familiar one.

Bonnie clued in easily on him missing Elena and, honestly, he didn't make it hard for her. That guilt and all those promises have been echoing through his headon a loop like his head is Talladega. Apparently guilt doesn't transform with time or life travel. That was good to know and really annoying all at once, and he'd held tightly to his missing and guilt for the girl – loud and clear. Like he did a lot of things.

Not all things, though.

The thing was, that wasn't the only guilt he was holding onto. The quieter feelings he'd held had been the guilt for leaving his brother as the Singularo Salvatore. They fought and snarked and whatever – because they were brothers and forever was a really long freaking time. All the crap they said about getting married, where the things you loved about someone became the things you hated sometimes over time – it held true a thousand times over for family because you were stuck together by blood and blood was their most powerful currency so family was sort of a _thing_. Yeah, there were a lot of things that made Stefan the less fun brother and they drove each other nuts half the time and they honestly didn't make a lot of promises to one another. Over the last long time, though, it had all been implied and Damon had allowed himself, mostly when he was solo (which wasn't a lot because Bonnie wasn't great about leaving him alone. Is he right or is he right? Or… actually, he has perfected the art of being so right it's wrong and he isn't gonna have this debate happening in his head when he needs to make that all important 'first thing' decision.)

So guilt, yeah, it was a thing. He isn't saying that out loud. It doesn't totally matter, because he can hear all sorts of other things—but the net total is the voice belongs to his brother and it brings all that guilt and missing right to the surface.

_Cause wherever you are, Damon, you're not here. _

He opens his mouth. Words don't come out, but his mouth opens so hey—progress. He wants to call out, wants to say that yes, he is, in fact, here. It seems like that won't really work, though. Is that how you spring something on someone who sounds totally ripped up? Not really. They'd probably think they were insane.

The halting words, though, the low tone and the grief… this sounds like the first time Stefan's had this conversation with thin air. The knowledge comes with all the other fun stuff that's part of being blood-tied to another person. (And not blood-tied like that sire bond bullshit.)

Tied as in _tied_. As in the quiet guilt that never went away.

Neither did the constant desire to try, to help, to take the pain away or take the hits for the person you were tied to. It doesn't change, it doesn't transform, and it's still just as present for him as he hears Stefan's rambling confession as it's ever been. It _sucks_.

_I gotta say, I'm not doing so great without you. I keep trying to start over but… can't get anywhere because I'm lost, brother. _

As soon as he hears those words mixed in with the rest, he knows the first thing he's doing when.

_I'm lost._

Speed is still a factor and it feels good, for the first time in a while, to be in control of motion. He zips through the leaves that, swear to God, smell the same and into the family mausoleum in the blink of an eye.

There are words coming out of his mouth before he processes them, and there's a hesitant touch, disbelief, and just… a hug. He isn't even gonna asshole-it up in the retelling. He isn't going to tell anyone about it because it's between them. _Brothers_. Brothers bound by blood and moments no one else quite understands.

The _first thing he did when_ isn't go to his girl. The first thing he does isn't save himself or have a drink. (Okay, he hadn't realized Stefan was going to throw a bottle. The drink would have to keep its rightful number two spot and, in the interest of preserving privacy, he may bump that up to number one later when someone inevitably asks.)

The first thing he does is find his brother and pull him from the ruins. He'd gone back to get Stefan from the other side in the first place, so the first thing he did was finish what he started however long ago it was. He knows without a doubt as they stand there, Stefan would have done the same for him.

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><p><em>I'll be your bravery when you're too afraid to be<em>  
><em>The least I could do is pull you from the ruins, 'cause you'd do the same for me<em>  
><em>I'll be your innocent bloom when your wilting guilt tilts the room<em>  
><em>I'll resuscitate all the messes I made while home in my clumsy tomb<em>  
><em>I'll be your bravery when you're too afraid to be<em>  
><em>The least I could do is pull you from the ruins, 'cause you'd do the same for me<em>


	2. You'd Do The Same For Me

**A/N: Okay, maybe there's no interest but apparently I'm writing this for myself anyway and I hope someone else out there enjoys it.**

**(ETA: Fixed the tense problems because they were bugging me. They should've bugged me sooner but what can you do?)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own tVD or ****_From the Ruins_**** by Nick Thomas**

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><p><strong>Part Two: You'd Do The Same For Me<strong>

The first thing they do together is sit down. _Stupid_. But true.

He supposes it's a bit shocking. See, he had the advantage of knowing who would be waiting for him. That was the beauty of being the one on the flipside. Yeah, he'd been flying blind in 1994 for a while, but he knew exactly who'd made it through before the other side collapsed. He knew what had happened to him, and that meant he had an educated guess what had happened to everyone else. Stefan had _nothing_ to go off. Stefan has the fact that Damon was gone in an instant, and has returned just as abruptly. At least, it seems that way with limited perspective. So yeah, the first thing they do, when either of them feels like they need to move, is sit.

The second thing they do is finish the bourbon because, for all the things that had changed, they're still the same people.

"So you're lost," Damon finally manages. "Care to share more with the class?"

Stefan let outs a puff of air without enough energy to be a snort. "I really don't know where to start."

"Pick a place. We can wander in circles until the bourbon runs out." He smirks. "Oh, wait. It already did."

Stefan looks at him disbelievingly. "Back under ten minutes and you're complaining about the conditions," he teases because that's the easiest place to start. Damon maybe has the right idea over time, and Stefan isn't telling him that because he might've been lost, but he isn't stupid. Give Damon an inch like that and he'll take a mile. Every time.

"The conditions were a tad more favorable in 1994, even if was my own little personal hell." His eyes narrow, seeing nothing as they stare around the familiar crypt. They'd never actually worked out _who's_ life it had been the worst day for – save Bonnie, who had been just a kid, there were a couple of options in competition, but there were enough sucky things Damon thinks it counts as his until someone is around who can argue otherwise.

"Nineteen-ninety-four?" Stefan repeats carefully, confusion dripping from every word.

"Well, that's where I would start, if I were the one talking," Damon says with a pointed glance at his younger brother. He isn't going to _say_ it out loud, but seeing the man beside him is surreal in a good way. He's just going to keep on staring and reminding himself and he's pretty sure it will be going on for a while. "Which I'm not. Not yet. Your turn." Just to keep things light, and make sure he's not wasting anything, he holds up the empty bottle in his hand and looks through it like it's some sort of magnifying glass. When he said it was gone, he meant 'not a drop'—it's kind of a law he's always subscribed to when he's bored and waiting for Stefan to get to the fucking point. He sighs. They have a _lot_ of catching up to do and he's never been particularly good with patience.

Or, you know, had any whatsoever.

"Enzo's a dick," Stefan finally says. Damon looks over at him with an amused smirk. _That's_ where his heart-of-gold brother decided to start, in the cavalcade of things they could say to one another. Item number one: sit down. Two: Proclaim emotional ineptitude over a drink. Three: complain about Enzo.

Check, check, and check.

"See, I was trying to start over, like I said. Enzo's kinda the reason I didn't get anywhere."

"How is that possible?" Damon asks, his confusion more evident than Stefan questioning the 1994 comment.

"He and Caroline found me eventually, and Enzo said I wasn't a good enough brother."

"Enzo used his freaky other-world powers to try to drown my girl. He doesn't get to criticize." That kind of remark is easier to make. The one he was going to follow it up with, not so much. The words very nearly choke him. "You didn't _know_ I was gonna be back, Stefan. No hard feelings on that account."

Stefan just shook his head. "I gave up."

"Yeah, well, we all have our limits. Even you, sunshine." Damon sighs and stares at the bottom of the empty bottle, again, and the way the slightly concave glass distorts the dim golden hues around them. "Now, I know this is gonna be the whole black-pot-black-kettle thing but… there isn't anything you could've done. Giving up, trying to move on or start over… that was probably the smartest solution."

"Even if I gave up, I never _forgot_." There's a tone of bitterness that makes Damon's stomach sink and he honestly isn't sure he wants to know. He is sure he isn't going to ask, though, so that's at least one sure thing in the sea of uncertainty. Stefan licks his lips. "Anyway, I settled down for a bit in Savannah. I had a job as a mechanic."

Damon snorts a little. That's more _his_ thing than Stefan's – or at least it had been at one point. There's something steady and powerful about the hum of engine, properly built or restored. Something oddly comforting in the way it always starts up, the way it will rev if you push the right pedal. The give and take and consistency; consistency above all else is almost like a drug. The thought brings on a silencing flash of understanding. He can't even offer Stefan a drink to offset it, so he stays quiet as Stefan continues.

"My boss was a dick and my paycheck was barely worth mentioning, but it occupied my mind. I met a girl and, even if I wasn't completely open with her or anything, it was kind of nice, the clean slate."

"I don't know whether to admire your guts or smack you or being that annoyingly optimistic," Damon commented.

"It didn't last."

"Of course it didn't. The only thing you can do with the past is outlive it. Did you learn nothing from Katherine Pierce?" There's another sigh and another checking the bottle to be sure the bourbon was gone. It dawns on him, vaguely, that he can't have been in his own personal hell before because the liquor supply was at least self-replenishing. This? An emotional conversation without alcohol?

_This_ is getting a little closer to his own personal hell.

"Anyway, then Enzo happened. I mean, I'd talked to Ric a few times. For the first little while, all he did was feed me whatever leads he could. Caroline has been trying to figure out how to undo the travelers' Mystic Falls dividing line and Elena..." Stefan trails off and Damon definitely doesn't like that. He tries not to read too much into it, but it's hard to avoid. The people Stefan was listing off like they were a burden are most of the reasons Damon pushed so hard to get back to reality.

All except one. The thought catching up with him, the one that says Bonnie isn't going to be right behind him, lands in the bottom of his stomach like a fucking rock. Bonnie should be here for Caroline, 'and Elena'… and little Gilbert and….

God. He needs bourbon immediately.

"So what or who did Enzo do?" Damon asks finally, once he shakes off the unwelcome waves of actual feelings threatening to bury him. Enzo is actually the easiest to talk about; yeah, they were murderous rampage buddies and at least half the time Damon could trust they weren't actually trying to somehow rip each other apart but… Enzo was the easiest topic to tackle first because he's the least personal.

"He showed up on my doorstep to promise me an eternity of hell and he turned my girlfriend." Damon raisesan eyebrow but doesn't say anything. "I tried to get Ric to compel her, at least, so she could start fresh somehow but…" He holds up his hands at the look Damon throws. "I know, I know. You can't run from the past. He refused to anyway because he thinks I'm a crappy brother, too, even if he…" Stefan sighs and trails off again.

"If he _what_?"

"I really don't want to tell you that part," Stefan admits. Damon's stomach sinks even more.

Instead of pushing or whatever, he just nods. "Then find me a drink, get me good and drunk, and tell me. I'm pretty sure that's the only way any of what _I _have to say will make sense, too. Win-win."

Stefan breaths out a shaky sigh of relief and stands. "Yeah, that sounds really good. I just…. I can't believe you're here. You're real."

"See it to believe it," Damon says simply. "I'm sure it won't be that long until you're trying to banish me back to whoever's hell I've been in."

With that, the fourth thing Damon does after his return is grab a drink with his brother and tell him about his day on repeat. He might save some of the 'good' details for later, though.

Because they have time now and he can.


	3. I'll Resuscitate All The Messes I Made

**A/N: I've replied where I can, but to the people who didn't leave a contact method - thank you. I'm glad you're enjoying it and your input is valuable and helps give me some direction. I think my plan right now is this part (And Alaric sort of got ripped off, because the first third is Defan), a Damon/Enzo part, a Damon/Elena part, and another Defan to round it out. I really like writing the brotherly relationships and my goal here is not to focus on the romantic aspects of any of it; honestly the show is kind of exploiting those for all they're worth dramatically. I'm writing it to focus on things I really wanted to see, so it's gone from wishful thinking to AU, but I hope those of you reading get something that would be lacking from a canonical focus. I know I get that from writing it, so I thank you for reading (and replying if you do - or just reading if you don't) and giving me a place to get something from. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own TVD or "From the Ruins" by Nick Thomas.**

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><p><strong>Part Three: I'll Resuscitate All the Messes I Made <strong>

When a guy comes back from the dead for the first time (well… the second technically, he supposes), there probably should be some kind of leeway granted by his conscience, shouldn't there?

Not if the conscience is attached to Damon Salvatore, as it turns out. He already knew this, but maybe he'd forgotten. He doesn't like to make it obvious he has one, but Stefan calls him on it almost immediately and asks who's next up on the reunion tour.

Stefan has done more than his fair share of talking—first time that's ever happened, really, and there isn't a leather bound book of blank pages in sight so that's another first—and Damon's basically up to speed. Enzo: Revenge Hunter. Sort of like crocodiles only more slippery of a concept, maybe. Alaric: Compeller of Grieving Vampires. Sort of like betrayal but… not.

He's not going to even _try_ to come up with anything to say about Elena because it hurts too much to think it. What does he do when that happens?

Pretends it isn't real.

"To Whitmore," he finally says. "I have a hot date with a history professor. Or whatever the hell he's teaching."

Stefan looks at him for _way_ too long.

**"**Really?" The younger guy says, doubtful eyebrows pitched sky-high.

"Yes, really. Put your brows back down and drop the disbelief. I'm driving."

He's actually gotten through patting down his pockets before he realizes it's a physical impossibility to drive. He might be magical and back from the dead and a badass—but that doesn't mean he can drive an ashmobile.

"Actually… you're driving or we're springing for a limo." He looks at Stefan meaningfully. "And I'm still thirsty."

"I'm driving and we'll figure something out."

There's always a plan B. A plan C. A "we fucked this up and didn't think something through" contingency. He'd be a lot more comfortable if that didn't double as his next meal, but he _did_ kind of spring the welcome home festivities on an unsuspecting audience. Maybe Ric will have something once his picks his jaw up off the floor and gets the knife out of Damon's back.

He mentally adds that to the list of things he probably shouldn't say out loud (doesn't mean he _won't_; he's on the fence.) That list is getting long enough he's quiet, by and large, for the drive. Stefan's car is small and red and… well, it seems like maybe there's a new era happening in the life of his little brother. He just doesn't know if the parallel silence means the new era is a _good _one.

"You don't… have a stake or anything of that sort on your person, do you?" Stefan asks. "Because you've been pretty calm, even considering the range of things I've told you, and I'd like to at least make things right with Ric before you kill him."

Damon scowls and presses his lips together. He doesn't think Stefan's dumb, but sometimes Stefan does a good job pretending he is. "Ric was turned by Esther. He's an Original. I left my white oak stake in my other pants."

It may very well be the first time either of them has laughed in the last several hours. It's the last, too, though. The silence isn't uncomfortable, it's just busy because their heads are so crowded. As much as Damon would like to shrug it off and play it off, he can't with this. A return from the dead, or hell, or a flannel holding cell, or whatever… it's kind of serious and he keeps thinking of things like Elena erasing him, Ric helping, and the way it all sort of cancels out Bonnie's last-second heroics that he'd really like to just… somehow undo or repay or whatever.

It could be argued it's bad timing when they finally make it to Ric's office. Stefan has to guide and he gets tripped up a little, because apparently during his last visit he wasn't paying extremely close attention or something, so they don't get there until Ric is very clearly trying to get out the door for a class.

"I thought I made myself clear, Stefan," Damon hears Ric intone, not unkindly but not exactly warmly. He thought about just walking in for shock value, because Stefan got over it pretty quickly so he's sure the disbelief wouldn't kill Ric, but there was a strong argument for waiting.

"You did, but things have changed," Stefan says simply.

"In two days? I doubt it," Ric says, flatly. "Find a way to prove it and then we'll talk, okay?"

"I… no," Stefan says. "You might want to sit down. I know I don't have the right to ask you for anything, so I'm not. I'm telling you to sit down."

The silence is long and loaded. Damon doesn't really even need vampire hearing to hear a _lot_ in it and he just walks around the corner, half tired of waiting and half because it's the first chance he would've had to get a word in edgewise.

Ric takes Stefan's advice.

Damon takes his own previous approach, minus catching the bourbon because Ric isn't throwing bottles around. He's just staring.

"I'm back," he says simply. "I'm real."

"Does, um… does Elena know?" Ric asks. He finally finds the chair he was actually aiming for and drops down. Damon, for the people-reading expert he is, doesn't know what the look on Ric's face is. It's somewhere between glad and 'oh shit.'

"No," Damon says, leading the word out. He all but hears Stefan's eyebrows go up in warning. "From what I hear she doesn't know _much_ where I'm concerned and I just… don't have the energy to deal with that right now."

It shouldn't be as hilarious as it is when Ric passes a flask over.

Damon's still laughing as he smells what's actually inside once he opens it (because of _course_ he did.) At first he feels greedy but fuck it. The way he sees it, Ric probably owes him at least a little blood or something. And Ric probably has more.

"You can probably just uncompel her and undo it," Damon finally says, once the flask is empty and on back in Ric's hands. "But you won't."

"She doesn't want me to," Ric says.

Damon just nods because he's not touching that. He's not. He knows how badly it's sucked for him when he thought she was dead or as good as or whatever… he doesn't pretend to know or understand what she's been through and he's not sure he has the capacity to understand that on top of the other stuff he's dealing with.

"Fair enough," he manages. "How's being a regular grade homicidal vampire instead of… tall dark and extra-murderous?"

"It sucks," Ric gets out. He still sounds uncertain, like he's waiting for Damon to snap or something. "Standing in front of a class of humans isn't all it's cracked up to be."

"Really, because it sounds like a riot under _normal_ circumstances," Damon lets out. Ric's laugh is a little weak, but it's genuine. "Sorry I haven't been here to help."

Ric just shrugs. "You're here now."

"That I am. I'm not going anywhere if I can help it." He grins evilly. "Aren't you late for class, teach?"

There's a chuckle and Ric stands. "Some punk took my lunch money. I'll call it a mugging."

Damon just nods and eases toward the door of Ric's office with his buddy. "Eh, well your class is an hour or so? That gives me time to compel you a snack."

"Don't you dare," Ric says, trying and failing to inject ice into his voice. "But be here when I get back."

Damon just nods because the 'don't leave' hangs as heavy in the air as anything else they've discussed and really, he has no intention of taking any bullets today. He's still got a to-do list to check some things off—a 'when you got back' bucket list that's giving him some trouble—but he's not really going anywhere. Not again, if he can help it.


End file.
